


Scratch of Dawn

by whyamistill



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Adrenaline, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Attempted Murder, Blood and Injury, Chases, Fluff and Angst, I'm Bad At Summaries, Jewelry, Kissing, M/M, Manipulation, Mild Sexual Content, Murder, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pirate Dream, Race, Slow Build, Strangers to Lovers, bad guy techno, crook george, dreams kinda a dick, element of enemies, rich old people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:27:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28533651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyamistill/pseuds/whyamistill
Summary: George has gotten himself into trouble once again, but this time he cant find a way out himself. Now he's scheduled for jail and is just trying to get back to the sea. Dream, the mysterious mask wearing pirate and fellow inmate decides to save poor George in exchange for the term that George will help him on his mission. George gladly complies but has something up his sleeve.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 4





	1. Jail

George loved the sea, the feeling of the salty wind biting his skin, the cool water spraying up and splashing him on the face, the not-always-gentle rocking of the boats he often traveled on, and all of the strange people he met on his journeys. So as he was harshly grabbed under his arms, and dragged towards the town hall, he threw one last glance over his shoulder at the vast blue behind him, he wasn't going to be seeing it for a while. He’s been in this situation before, not being the most fortunate he often stowed away on ships and not everyone was exactly happy when they found out. 

When they finally reached their destination George was thrown into the small holding cell inside of it. Hitting the cold stone floor with his tailbone he cringed with pain but refused to show it as the guards smirked at each other before slamming the iron bars shut and locking him in for good.  
“Well shit,” he thought to himself, “how are we getting out of this one George.”

Looking around there was nothing he could see that could possibly help in his escape. Unless you counted the moss in one corner and the weird smelling pile of cloth in the other, he certainly didn't. A couple of roaches were scuttling around outside, just out of reach. George sat cross legged and sighed bringing his hands up to his face, he tangled his hands in his hair and pulled slightly, trying to relieve some stress. When it didn’t work he threw his head back and rested it on the bars and stretched his legs out. Looking out at the market he realised it was already mid day. He watched as a mother and her two children bought several loaves of bread from a vendor. One of the children reached up from beside her trying to grab the bread and she chuckled gently and raised the loaf just above his reach. George quickly turned his head away at the sound of heavy footsteps. 

The two guards from before were back and they were carrying some kind of food. George backed up into the corner of the cell, remembering stories he heard about guards throwing food at people like him for some sort of entertainment. The shorter one opened his mouth and laughed while making eye contact with George. 

“Scared are we boy?” he asked with a gravelly tone, “didn’t peg you to be that type.”

George didn’t answer and just stared at the man, not wanting to give the man the satisfaction of telling him just how fast his heart was beating in his chest. 

“I expect an answer when asking a question,” the man said threateningly as he banged on the bars, trying to draw a reaction from George. A reaction he refused to give to him. 

Becoming bored the guard muttered “whatever,” before sliding the tray under the bars and motioning at the other guard that they could go. 

George let out a sigh of relief at the guards absence and reached out and grabbed his tray. To say it looked disgusting would be an understatement. It looked and smelled like the churned up insides of a week old whale. Along with the mush was a small paper cup filled with lukewarm water. Deciding just to be glad they gave him anything, he tipped back the cup and chugged it in a single big gulp then whipped the back of his hand across his face. How long ago was his last sip of water, he couldn't remember. He looked over at the mush and stared at it for a good three minutes before picking it up and sticking his fingers in. He scooped some out and plopped it in his mouth, immediately gagging at the flavor, it certainly tasted just as bad as it smelled. 

After suffering through his meager meal he stood up and paced around the small cell, assessing his surroundings again. The cell was under the town hall in a small room. It was located in the back left corner away from both of the doors. One led to the center of town and the other to the guards place. The entire floor was made out of smooth old stone bricks, driftwood made triangles in the corner of the room with lanterns hanging off hooks in the middle, all out of reach. The walls were the same stone brick as the floor and the roof was the floor for the town hall, wide wood panelling. Moss had accumulated around the edges of the room where it connected to the wall. And near the guards door there was a line of hooks for hanging something on. Weapons or clothes George presumed. With no foreseeable amazon escape on the horizon he sat back down on top of the moss and put his head in his hands, staring at his leather boots. 

“What do I do?”


	2. Trial

George stared up at the judge. He was restrained with his hands behind his back and a longer chain connecting his two feet. You'd think they wouldn't have this much security for a simple stowaway and thief. But it was apparent this was not the case as he was flanked by the same two familiar guards up to the pedestal. 

“George... what’s your last name, we couldn’t find it in your record,” the judge asked from above.

“That's because I don't have one, never had’” George replied cheekily.

“Alright,” the judge snorted, “George, last name was not found,” he reads out as he writes it down on his paper. “Okay George I’m sure you know what you’re here for but I'm going to read it out to you just to make sure you do, ”he said pointedly staring at the man.

George just stared at him.

“Attempted armed theft, armed theft, theft, and trespassing, all on multiple occasions.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Your attitude is getting you nowhere boy,” the judge glared at him.

George took this moment to look around the courtroom. After the two guards had rudely interrupted his sleep this morning, he had been locked up and dragged into the guards corridor and onto a stool where a bag was forced over his head. They then walked for quite a while through a tunnel and into the room where he stood now. He craned his head as he looked around the room, it was curved and sloping upwards on three sides with wooden benches placed on tiers of stone down to the circle in the middle where he stood. The podium where the judge stood behind an intimidating desk wasn’t circular like the rest of the room; it was a straight wall up, with the judge on the top, level with the highest layers of benches. Behind George laid the tunnel he had come from, long, dark, and lined with torches. People were sparsely spread around the benches choosing to spend their Wednesday watching people suffer the consequences of the law. 

The guard, noticing George hadn’t been paying attention to the Judges ramblings about his duty to be a good citizen, shook the chain in his hand leading to George's handcuffs and gave them a shake, bringing his awareness back to his trial.

“Sorry Judge, it’s just that I’ve fallen into tough times recently,” George says and bats his eyes, trying to win some sympathy points, “I’m just doing what I have to do to survive, sir”

His words seemed to have no effect on the man in front of him, continuing to sneer at him as if he was a disgusting small insect that needed to be exterminated. 

_ At least I tried _ , George rolled his eyes internally, not taking this as seriously as he probably should be. 

The judge narrowed his eyes at him and raised his little hammer.

“Guilty,” he proclaims, slamming it down on the desk a couple of times loudly, the sound ricocheting around the room. 

George wasn’t too worried, he figured for what he had done he expected four months at most, not the longest sentence he’s had to endure. 

“George is hereby sentenced to stay at the Stone Prison for 4 years.”

George's eyes widen in disbelief.

“FOUR YEARS?” he shouts, “FOR THEFT AND TRESPASSING, WHAT ARE YOU, FUCKING CRAZY?” 

The Judge just waved his hand at him dismissively, standing up and walked through the door behind him into his office. 

“You heard the man,” The guard leered at him, grabbing him by the arms once again and out into a cart that had been waiting by the door, they had already known he was going to jail and prepared beforehand.

_ Bastards, all of them. _

**Author's Note:**

> I realize this is like super short but I just has this idea and wanted to get it down on paper so I just wrote this in like an hour. :)


End file.
